


I've Missed You

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9492596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry ;)





	

Seventy-five days into a 90-day rehab stay. 

You were almost there.

Dilaudid addiction was brutal and Spencer had struggled with it time and time again after he was taken by Tobias Henkel. He’d come up against cravings before, but hadn’t gone back to it until a recent case came across his desk involving the rape and murder of young girls. He didn’t want to drench you in the awfulness of his job, so he’d kept the case from you and turned to the drugs instead.

They day you found him, a needle hanging out of his arm, you insisted he go to rehab - inpatient - or you were done. You didn’t want to be done - you loved him with all your heart, but he needed an impetus to kick the habit for good, and you knew that you were it. Although he had to disclose his problem to work, they gave him the necessary time and insisted that if he were clean on the back end of this stint, he could return to work, with supervision for an extended period of time.

Three times a week, you would travel the 15 minutes to the rehab center in order to attend therapy with him. Today was one of those days, and he was so much better than he was when you’d found him. He was off the drugs and working through his issues, deciding whether or not he could continue to do his job without turning to drugs. You knew he wanted to, but in order for that to happen, he needed to be open, completely and totally open, with you regarding his cases. That was what you were working on in therapy now. 

While previously it was difficult for you to walk into the center, a heavy, hazy feeling permeating your every step, now it was different. Now, you walked in feeling lighter - hopeful. You had been telling the psychiatrist that you didn’t think Spencer truly dealt with his abduction all those years ago, but now you felt like he was actually examining it.

Today, you were going a little extra early to spend some time together outside of therapy. Although 90 days was only three months, it felt like so much longer - and you missed him. He was your everything; sticking with him through this wasn’t even a question, as long as he was dedicated to recovery. He was.

“Hi honey,” you said, as you walked into his room. At this particular facility, after the 60th day, if you had no marks on your record, you could get your own room instead of sharing one with another patient. Spencer had been truly working towards recovery, so for the past two weeks he’d had his own room. You walked into his arms, wrapping your hands around his waist. “I’ve missed you,” you whispered.

“You just saw me two days ago,” he laughed, trying to bring some levity to the situation. “You can’t have missed me that much.”

Slowly, you grazed your lips against the skin of his neck. “I have. I used to see you every day. And I didn’t just mean like that.” A small smile crept across his face as his eyes darted to the door of his room. “Do we have any time? Can we do that in here?”

After more than 80 days without physical closeness, you could see Spencer really didn’t care if you did get caught. He walked to the door and peeked his head out. Sufficiently pleased with the lack of people around, he closed the door and grabbed your hand, pulling you toward him. When you walked into his arms, he backed you into the wall, craning you neck to the side so he could graze his teeth against the spot he knew drove you crazy. 

Staring off into the distance, the feel of his scruff against you skin, you whimpered, unaware of how loud you were. “Shhhh…” he mumbled. “We don’t want to get caught.” Chuckling, you turned your head back toward him, pushing his scrub pants around his ankles. That was one of the many stipulations of this facility - no personal clothes allowed. Everything was supposed to be streamlined in order for the patient to focus on recovery. 

Frantically, he nibbled at your earlobe as he undid your belt, throwing it across the room with a loud clack. “Quickly, baby,” you breathed, grabbing his chin in your hand and swallowing his grunt. With your pants down on the floor, he used his foot to step on them, allowing you to discard the dark denim. “Take me.”

He had a limited range of movement given the restriction of his pants, but nothing would stop you after such an extended time apart. As you breathed each other in, he placed himself at your entrance. Instead of wrapping your legs around him, you remained standing on the floor. At this angle, his pelvis rubbed against yours - the friction was incredible. This would be the definition of a quickie.

With all of his pent up need, he thrusted inside you, the slickness from your center already running down the columns of your thighs. “I have missed you,” he mumbled against your skin, his tongue leaving moisture in its wake. As he thrust upward, you could feel your legs beginning to tremble. This was the problem with standing while having sex, when your legs began to tremble, it took every muscle in your body to remain upright. “Fifteen more days and we don’t have to do this against the wall anymore,” he laughed.

“We don’t have to,” you chuckled, your teeth grazing against the sharpness of his jaw, “But we could if you wanted to…go from the wall, to the couch, to the kitchen floor…”

“You really have missed me,” he muttered. He moved his hand between your writhing bodies, pressing on the bundle of nerves at your core and stilling your movements. His slightly protruding tongue licked at your upper lip. Any modicum of control you had flew out the window as he took your mouth in his. Jumping up, you wrapped your legs as tightly around his waist as was physically possible. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck so that both of your heads were buried in the neck of the other. As the tremors began to roll through you, you bit down lightly on the straining muscle in his neck. “Fuck, baby, please,” you cried. “Fuu…..”

With one final thrust, he released himself inside you as your muscles contracted tightly. “Oh my god, I’ve definitely missed you,” he mumbled. The sweet smell of the sweat on your bodies hung in the air as you released your legs from him. “Unfortunately, I think we have to go to therapy now.”

“Yea, we do,” you replied. “You think they’ll be able to tell we fucked like rabbits before we got there?”

“Probably,” he laughed. “But in a little more than two weeks we don’t have to care.”


End file.
